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Holiday cheers to us all! This week we have a snippet from Deborah Garland’s Must Love Fashion, Book 1 in her Darling Cove series.

About the book:

Escape into the exciting world of fashion where Andrew Morgan, a former male model turned brand manager meets his match in Gwendolyn Mallory, a beautiful small town public relations specialist he doesn’t think he needs.

She was hired to turn the fashion world upside down…not his.

Go behind the scenes as Gwen sets out to prove she has what it takes to promote a prestigious brand like Prada. Andrew is already struggling to accept his PR responsibilities have been taken away from him, but the intense attraction he has for Gwen is just plain getting in the way of rational thinking—sleeping with a co-worker has always been on his to-don’t list. But Gwen challenges everything Andrew believes about love and relationships as he puts aside his heartbreaking past to have the woman he never knew he needed.

Follow the sparkling fuse slowly burning with sexual tension as Gwen brings to life a sexy devil…who just happens to wear Prada.

Excerpt:

Andrew’s expression settled into a contemplative stare. He inched closer. “As long as we’re talking about former employers, I’ll tell you something about me that only Enrico knows.”

Gwen’s mouth was open the entire time she listened to him reveal his secret past as a male model. It wasn’t hard to imagine. He was the perfect specimen of a man. Tall, broad shoulders, prominent cheek bones and full lips. “Is that why you asked me what I thought about male models?”

And if Starlight had designed male thongs and Andrew was one of her models…

“Self-consciously, yes. It’s something…I’m proud of but also ashamed of at times.”

“Being rewarded because you’re tall and beautiful is—” She quickly looked away. I just called him beautiful. Licking her dry lips, she finished. “I mean…having someone think you’re good enough to show off their clothes is nothing to be ashamed of.”

“Thank you.” His head had lowered but his dark eyes were glued to her.

“Thank you for confiding in me,” she responded humbly. Her head was spinning and not because of the wine.

“We’re a team, right?” Andrew had become a different person. He was speaking to her like…a friend. An entirely different side of the man had emerged.

“Absolutely.” She clinked his glass again.

Andrew smoothed his tie and sat up straight. “Speaking of being a team, Enrico said you asked to be moved to an office on the designer floor.”

Her cheeks blazed with heat. She’d almost forgotten about the request. So this was business. Not pleasure. She took a breath. “It’s hard to share an office. No matter what the circumstances.”

“I’d really rather you not sit on the designer floor.”

She leaned in. “Why?”

“That floor is chaotic. I can’t think straight when I’m down there.”

“I think it’s kind of fun. Lots of energy. It’ll be like watching Project Runway every day, all day.” She wiggled her shoulders, letting her passion show through. “I love the creative process. Seeing them take a bolt of fabric and with a few clips of the scissors and stabs of the sewing machine needle…voila! A dress. It’s really quite fascinating.” She paused and sat back, staring into her wine to avoid eye contact. “Besides, you can’t like me being in your office”

“Actually, I do.”

She looked up, startled by the confession.

He pressed his fingers together. “I thought it would be annoying. But you’re pleasant enough to be around.”

Pleasant enough… Oh yeah, Mr. Morgan, talk dirty to me. “I have to be honest though, the mess and clutter that I have to look at every day, is kind of getting to me.”

“I’ll work on that. I promise.” He finished his beer and took out his wallet. “You’re not going to be happy listening to Salvatore yell all day, trust me.”

“Yeah, but it’s mostly in Italian.” Her finger nails scraped the bottom of the pretzel bowl. It was empty again and she was too embarrassed to ask for another refill.

“Thank goodness…I’m sure if it was English, we’d have dozens of lawsuits on our hands.”

He was keeping her away from Salvatore to protect the company from a lawsuit. How very…corporate of him. She shrugged her shoulders. “Okay. At least until the fashion show, deal?”

“Deal.” His lips agreed but his eyes said maybe.

Her phone buzzed and vibrated. It was Greg again. She dumped it in her bag. She didn’t want him or her father to worry, but she was an adult. An adult who was allowed to go out after work and come home late.

Deborah Garland is a versatile author of women’s fiction, contemporary and paranormal romances. Her books are about love and the struggles of complicated relationships. The heroines are strong and witty and the heroes fall hard for them.

She lives on the North Shore of Long Island with her husband and two pugs, Zoe and Harley. And when she’s not writing, you can find her on a bar stool on a Friday night with a Grey Goose cosmopolitan, listening to her husband tell her the same stories over and over.

Lady Smut welcomes Mary Auclair with a bit about and a sexy excerpt from Venomous Craving, book 1 in the Eok Warriors series.

Blurb:

A desperate woman.

A warrior whose craving knows no bounds.

A passion that will change the fate of humanity.

In a world where humanity has been hunted to near extinction, Rose is captured and on her way to be sold on the lucrative black market. Seizing her only chance, she escapes and finds fate waiting for her in the form of another captive of terrifying strength: a legendary Eok warrior.

Together, Rose and the Eok warrior Karian will fight for their survival – and ultimately for the fate of the entire human race. During that fight, a dangerous attraction is born.

Karian, the unyielding Commander in Chief of the Eok armies, feels his control fading a little more every time he looks at the fragile but headstrong human. Soon, the call to make her his mate torments his body, turning his desires into an imperious craving. She seems to want him, too, but she has no idea of the consequences for her should he claim her.

Will Rose accept him as her bloodmate and seal both their destinies, before everything is lost?

Excerpt:

A few hours later, Rose held her knees up to her chest with her arms to ward off the frigid desert night, but from the sharpness of her breaths, he knew the cold still slithered from the sand and slipped into her body, depleting it of much needed warmth. Her biosynthetic cotton clothes were sorely inadequate and offered no protection. He knew she couldn’t stand much more of this cold, but he didn’t trust himself to touch her.

If he did, there was no telling where he’d stop. And when the Mating was sealed, he wouldn’t be able to think straight. He would be nothing but a lust-crazed fool for a few days, and those were days he couldn’t afford to spend.

Her teeth began to chatter and long, bone-deep shivers ran through her body. Guilt riddled each cell in his own body, and Karian turned to her. By fearing to lose his control, he’d let her get dangerously cold.

What a poor protector I’ve been. Look at her, she’s freezing.

“You’re losing too much heat.” He got up and walked over to Rose, then sat at her side. “Let me warm you.”

“It’s okay.” Her voice shook, and guilt lashed at him in blazing strokes of shame. “I’ll be fine. Keep watch.”

“You’re not fine.” His arm circled a shoulder of ice. “Midnight God, Pretty Thing! Your body is about to shut down.”

Karian grabbed Rose’s shoulder and pulled her into the cradle of his body. She made a face at his possessive gesture, but didn’t protest. She needed the heat too much. She was so small against him, her body made of subtle curves and secret places.

Lust came, unyielding and imperious. He had known it would, and ignored the tingling of the Mating Venom on his tongue. There was no way around it, the venom slipped through, entering his bloodstream.

I would warm her faster if we were both naked.

No. This was the Mating Venom talking again.

His hand reached up a goosebumps-covered arm, kneading the soft flesh, massaging his own heat into it. Rose moaned and hid her head in the crook of his neck, nestling her body closer to him. Heat flared from deep inside his body and he squeezed her closer, breathing in her intoxicating scent. His hands were animated by a will of their own as they explored her small, female body, running across her legs to grasp her firm, shapely thighs.

Rose’s breath on his neck turned raspy as she molded her breasts to his chest, leeching every sparkle of fire from his contact, sending his desire into overdrive. Karian’s blood turned to a flow of lava and he was remotely aware of his fangs, trickling with the Mating Venom, pushing the boundaries of his control just beyond his reach. Each second that passed made him more intoxicated, more lost in the lust for this female.

Her cold, full lips closed on the skin of his neck and a deep shudder traveled through his body, ending at his crotch. His seed stem was so hard it hurt, and when she pressed her firm ass on it, he could barely contain his impulse.

“You’re playing a dangerous game, Pretty Thing.” Karian nipped at the taut skin of her neck, then licked where his fangs had pinched her. His grasp on the Mating Venom was becoming thinner by the moment, and what was worse, he wasn’t sure he cared anymore. “Are you sure of what you’re asking?”

“No,” Rose said truthfully. “But we might die in a few hours. It seems to me like there’s no point in overthinking it. If I’m about to die, then I’d rather die with your taste in my mouth.”

He held her chin between his fingers and turned her head to him. Their gazes met and melded together. They were trapped inside each other’s souls.

Gazing into the gray depth of her eyes, Karian wasn’t sure where the female ended and where he began. His life before her, his impressive rise to the highest rank of Eok military and his years of relentless dedication, seemed empty and void of meaning in the face of what he felt now that he had her in his arms. Maybe she had always been there, somewhere in a corner of his mind, waiting.

“You have no idea what you’re asking of me,” Karian said. “You have no idea—”

He didn’t finish what he wanted to say. Rose closed her now warm mouth on his in a hungry kiss that lay waste to his sanity. Grasping her, he turned her around so she faced him and she wrapped her firm thighs around his waist, pushing her hips against his crotch. Karian tore his lips from hers, then covered the supple, soft flesh of her neck with his mouth, kissing every inch of skin deeply.

He stopped at the curve of her neck, his jaws opening and his tongue flicking over her quivering skin. A trickle of Mating Venom dripped from his fangs, the slick drug covering her tender flesh. Over his ear, Rose moaned and pushed her sex harder against his. The smell of her arousal invaded his nostrils and his burning erection throbbed, imperious with need.

Far in the back of his mind, a small voice suggested: Take her. Take the female. She’s yours.

His hand slid to her breasts, kneading them softly until her nipples perked, hard and needy, through the fabric. His fingers rolled the hard knobs of flesh and she arched her back, whimpering in pleasure, making her breasts protrude even more.

“Pretty Thing, you don’t know how I hurt for you.”

“Then don’t hurt anymore. Take what you want.” She managed to talk through the panting. “I want you, too.”

Karian’s lips landed on her throat with all the hunger of a long-held starvation. The impulse rushed through him and he opened his jaw to enclose the fragile flesh, fangs at the ready. Mating Venom coursed through his veins, veiling his thoughts with the need to make her his, to seal the bond with the bite. His jaw tightened and the fangs pushed against her skin, piercing the membrane slightly. The taste of blood entered his mouth, coppery and salty. It made the rage all the more urgent, the possession all the more pressing. He had to take her. He had to make her his mate.

“Are you going to hurt me?” Rose’s voice came, shaky but still laden with desire.

Her words reached him through the dense fog of lust. She was afraid. She should be. He was seconds away from giving in to his instincts to bind her life to his irremediably. Without her approval, without her knowledge.

He should be ashamed of himself.

With a supreme effort, he opened his jaw, releasing her throbbing throat. His breathing was fast and jagged, and his entire body vibrated with frustrated need.

Mary Auclair grew up in the quiet peace of a small rural village in the heart of Quebec, Canada.

​She now writes as much as her busy schedule allows to bring to life her inner world, filled with exotic planets, mysterious creatures and off course, hot, alpha heroes and the women who melt their hearts.

When she’s not writing, she can be found in the garden, walking her dogs or playing with fire in her kitchen as a part time hit-or-miss chef.

Hey Gang! Nancy Gideon’s got a contemporary romance for you today that takes place in New Orleans, and has a sexy cast of spies and clans.

Obsessed with an enemy – the only female to ever walk away from him . . .

Colin . . . Prince in the House of Terriot

Brawny, cynical negotiator for his clan, Colin Terriot sees a move to New Orleans as an escape from a painful past and his reputation as a legendary lover. What he didn’t expect was to fall hard for a rival spy, the female who tricked and betrayed him by leaving his bed for his brother’s. Now, he now must work with her, up close and personal, as the envoy for her clan. Things are about to heat up.

Determined to have him – even if having him means losing all . . .

Mia . . . Strong-willed Guedry heir

Denied her rightful legacy, Mia Guedry plans to stake her claim over the bodies of those who killed her family. But best laid plans fall before her desire for the one male she can’t resist, the one who will never trust her once burned by her necessary deceptions. Saving her Terriot prince from plans already in motion may cost more than her inheritance . . . the price could be her life.

Excerpt from PRINCE OF POWER, House of Terriot series, Book 2

The alley behind the Shifter club, Cheveux du Chien, was lit by a single flickering bulb. As Colin thumbed his key fob, the lights to his ride flashed like lightning strikes in a complement to his mood. He turned up his collar as the first fat raindrops fell, then came to a dead stop. The vehicle had a new hood ornament. His blood pressure dropped to his groin.

Mia Guedry perched on the front of the rental, knees spread slightly to accommodate the indolent dangle of her hands. “What took you so long, Dreamy? Hashing out world peace?”

“Get off.” He started around the car, refusing to look where his eyes wanted to go.

“I was hoping to, but you’re not making it easy.”

As he crossed in front of her, one sexy leg stretched out at crotch level to bar passage and the other set up a road block behind his butt. He stopped but refused to turn, demanding, “What do you want, Mia?”

“You.”

His shoulders rose and fell in aggravation. “You’ve had me and made it very clear I was nothing interesting enough to hold your attention. Stop messing with me. I don’t like it.”

He reached beneath the scandalously short skirt, tearing away nearly non-existent panties as she pulled at his belt, yanking open his jeans. He jerked her toward him so abruptly, she fell back against the hood of the car, one leg over his shoulder, the other curled about his waist. She arched, crying out at the force of his deep entry. When she tried to reach up for him, he caught her wrists, pressing the backs of her hands to the shiny paint job, holding her in place to receive his aggressive thrusts.

The light flickering behind him cast Colin’s features in harsh ridges and shadows. His eyes gleamed hot and gold. As intensity built with the speed of a bullet train, his lips curled back from savagely clenched teeth, undeniably the most rawly sexual thing she’d ever seen. Or imagined.

Too soon! His fierce plunging strokes were friction on eager tinder, striking flame, searing Mia with waves of combustive heat. The sight of him taking his own rough pleasure against the backdrop of seething heavens, head thrown back, big body shuddering, made her come in a deluge until wrung dry and trembling as he finally went still, continuing to pulse inside her. His breaths panted hard and fast for a long minute as she tried to recover from their quick and totally devastating union.

And then he stepped back, leaving her gasping and ridiculously weak, to zip, buckle, and regard her as if something earthshaking hadn’t just happened between them. His flat tone brought spinning emotions to a halt.

“Where can I drop you off?”

She blinked. Like his laundry? Like an annoying obligation?

Her knees snapping together just a tad late to protect her pride, Mia wriggled off the car, leaving her imprint on its hood. The way he’d left his on her emotions.

Nancy Gideon is the award-winning bestseller of over 60 romances ranging from historical, regency and series contemporary suspense to dark paranormal, with a couple of horror screenplays tossed into the mix, and is currently testing the “Hybrid author” waters. She works full time as a legal assistant in Central Michigan, and when not at the keyboard, feeds a Netflix addiction along with all things fur, fin and fowl.

Kris Michaels: Thank you so much for taking the time out of your busy schedule to talk with me! I’m thrilled to get to ask you questions. Okay, I’m done fangirling now. (Not really, because she’s Riley Hart, y’all!!!)

Riley Hart: Hahaha. Thank you so much for having me! I’m happy to be here.

Kris Michaels: Okay, first question: I know you publish under two names, Nyrae Dawn and Riley Hart. What was the impetus for two pen names?

Riley Hart: I was writing a lot of YA at the time and had a lot of younger readers. I was worried about having the books too connected. I didn’t want one of my thirteen-year-old readers looking me up and a super erotic excerpt popped up or something. LOL.

Kris Michaels: How long have you been writing?

Riley Hart: My whole life if feels like. LOL. I’ve always loved it. I won my first writing contest in third grade. But writing for publication? About… eleven years. It was a long road for me. I started before self-publishing was really a thing, so I did the agent and submission hunt. Took writing classes, that kind of thing.

Kris Michaels: Do you write full time?

Riley Hart: Yep!

Kris Michaels: I must admit I automatically one click anything you write under either name. I love the character driven stories you create. Walk us through the process you use to develop your ideas into stories or are you a fly by the seat of your pants type writer?

Riley Hart: I’m a combination of a plotter and a panster. I always have a basic story idea and I also know my characters really well from the start. What is their backstory? Their goal, motivation and conflict? What makes them tick? What connects them to the character they’re falling in love with? Sometimes I have a few key scenes in mind. Then I just write. Beginnings are always the hardest for me. Once I get about…15k into the book, I start breaking it down by scenes, making sure I know what’s coming next and that I’m on the right path to get my characters and their story where they need to be. I usually plot out a few scenes at a time.

Kris Michaels: Does the process change when you collaborate?

Riley Hart: Not really. The plotting part then just becomes more of a phone call and talking it out with someone. Well, that’s kind of a lie. Usually we just write until we’re much farther along than I do on my own before we stop to figure out where things need to go next.

Kris Michaels: Which of your published works is your favorite and why? (Sorry, you can’t say all of them.)

Riley Hart: That really is hard for me. I love them all for different reasons but of course some are closer to my heart. A HUNDRED THOUSAND WORDS because I relate to Tobias so much. TURN THE WORLD UPSIDE DOWN because of how important it is for me to speak up about mental health and mental illness. COLLIDE because no one loves like Noah and Cooper. CROSSROADS because that book took on a life of it’s own. DEPTH OF FIELD because I fell so in love with Shane, Van, and their story, but also Shane’s mom (which goes back to mental illness for me). Also, BROKEN PIECES because it challenged me the most.

Kris Michaels: Which book was a struggle to write and why?

Riley Hart: BROKEN PIECES challenged me more than anything else. It was so different from anything I’d done and I knew I had to get it right, to make the relationship between the three men not only make sense, but show they really were three pieces of a whole. It needed to be equal parts that didn’t work without the other for the story to be told the right way.

Kris Michaels: Can you tell us a little about the project you are working on now?

Riley Hart: I’m working on the second book in the LAST CHANCE SERIES (following DEPTH OF FIELD). It’s Ryan and Caleb’s book. I’m super excited to tell their story and Ryan is really talking to me.

Kris Michaels: For anyone who hasn’t read your stories, I can attest to the fact that your couples are amazing and each story is wonderfully unique and absolutely enthralling. I’m curious though, did any of your guys demand you write their story even though you were supposed to be working on different projects?

Riley Hart: Oh absolutely!! I planned to write the second Blackcreek book when I had a dream about Mateo, Josiah and Tristan. That idea hit me hard and I couldn’t ignore them! I was supposed to write ROCK SOLID two when the idea for CROSSROADS hit. Bryce would NOT shut up! LOL. I was glad because I loved him, but I’ve had some writers block on ROCK SOLID two, ever since then. And I was also planning on writing WILD SIDE three when DEPTH OF FIELD demanded my attention. I have to follow the muse!

Kris Michaels: Do you still get butterflies when you hit publish?

Riley Hart: Every. Single. Time. It will never stop scaring me or exciting me. If it does, I shouldn’t be doing this.

Kris Michaels: I am giving you a magic wand. You now have the power to change one thing in this world. What would you change?

Riley Hart: All the hate, anger and ugliness going on in the world today L

Kris Michaels: Have you set any professional goals that you are still trying to achieve?

Riley Hart: The most important thing to me is to keep being passionate about what I do, to be proud of every book I put out, and to write stories that touch readers’ hearts.

Kris Michaels: Any shout outs? People you’d like to thank for giving you that extra push, the shoulder to lean on or someone who believed in you when you didn’t think you could do it?

Riley Hart: I talk to Devon McCormack and Christina Lee daily. I would likely lose my mind without them. My bestie Kelley York always has my back. She’s an incredible writer and I’ve learned a lot from her.

Kris Michaels: Riley, thank you so much for helping me expose the Lady Smut readers to your fabulous stories. I can honestly say you are one of the sweetest people I’ve had the pleasure to meet. I adore your work and wish you every success and happiness in your future endeavors.

Riley Hart: Thank you so much! That really means a lot to me. I had so much fun. Thanks for having me.

Blurb for DEPTH OF FIELD:

Shane Wallace has made a decent life for himself in Last Chance. He built his own home on his mom’s property to take care of her, owns an automotive repair shop, and when he wants to get laid, Portland isn’t too far away. Not too shabby for the boy who spent his childhood getting bullied and feeling alone. Shane’s content to leave his past behind him…until one of his childhood tormentors comes back to town.

Maxwell Sullivan never planned to step foot in Last Chance again. Here, he was Maxwell, a teen who suffered in silence while everyone thought he had the perfect life. Now, he’s “Van,” the erotic artist and photographer. He’s only here to help his mom tie up some loose ends after his father’s death and to apologize to Shane. After that, he’s heading back to LA for good.

Shane never thought he’d have anything in common with Maxwell, but there’s a depth to Van that surprises him. Van knows what it feels like to be alone. He sees Shane in ways no one else does. There’s a shared connection neither can deny. Somehow, despite their rocky history, they get each other.

It’s not long before the two are so drawn to each other that they tumble into bed—sometimes with Van’s camera involved. Their chemistry in and out of the bedroom is undeniable. Except nothing is ever black and white. Shane can’t leave his mom and Van’s life is in LA. With two different lives pulling them in opposite directions, their picture-perfect ending might not be in the cards.

Excerpt for DEPTH OF FIELD

Shane’s body was overheating. His pulse thumped against his skin. Christ, he was fucking hungry for the other man, hungry to slide his dick between Van’s ass cheeks and revel in all that heat around him. He wanted to just let go—fuck and feel free in ways he wasn’t often able to do. Wanted to step outside his world, and pretend it was something different.

“What are you waiting for?” Van asked him, his brows pulled together.

“Nothing,” Shane replied. He finished removing his jeans and then grabbed his lube from the drawer. There was an unopened box of condoms inside, which he tore into before plucking one out. “Get on your hands and knees for me,” he told Van who did it. His sexy, tight, ass was there and waiting for Shane. He climbed on the bed, leaned forward and licked it. Wanted to push his face in it and eat at Van’s hole until he lost his damn mind.

He wanted to make the other man come harder than he ever had before. Wanted to prove that even though he stayed in this tiny down, on the same goddamned property he’d grown up on, that he was experienced and knew what he was doing. That he could make Van scream, could make him come in a hundred different ways.

On his knees behind Van, he rubbed Van’s pucker with his thumb, and watched him tremble. “Nothing like a tight, little hole. I can’t wait to see it stretched out, taking my dick.”

Van looked over his shoulder with a cocky, grin on his face, “Then give it to me.”

Shane’s fingers shook, so much pent-up energy racing through his body, as he ripped open the condom and rolled it down his erection. He opened the lube with a snap, squirted some in his hand and rubbed his prick before adding more to Van’s hole. He pushed the tip of his finger inside, just to play with him, as he rubbed his other hand over Van’s ass.

Christ, he still couldn’t believe he had this man in his bed right now.

“Give it to me, Shane.”

Hearing Van say his name almost pulled him out of it, but just as quickly as it happened, his need took over again. Not just his need, but the fact that there was not one thing about Van that reminded him of the boy he’d been. Neither of them were the same.

“Ask me again,” he said.

“Give it to me, please. Make me see star—no, fuck that. Make me see all those damn colors you use when you’re blowing glass.”

Background: In this excerpt, Cai and Rand are camping in the forest, where Cai has been watching over Rand while the wolf shifter is healing from a hunter’s bullet. At the beginning of this excerpt, Rand is in his wolf form.

“Been doing a little reading,” the vampire said conversationally, though his gaze was on the chained Rand, tracking his every movement. Cai squatted on his heels a short distance away, forearms loosely braced on his knees, thumb and middle finger of one hand flicking in idle, unconscious movement. Rand changed position, four feet braced as he faced off with the vampire.

“Went into town to snag the chain and collar, and raided the local library for the shifter stuff. Figured a lot of it was going to be complete bullshit, same as it is for vampires, though they do get some things right, like the darkness and blood.” Cai lifted a book that was on the ground by his side. Rand flattened his ears in response, not sure of the intent of the movement until Cai laid it down again.

*It’s a damn book. Think.* He could shift his mind to think like a human while in wolf form, if he focused. He just usually preferred not to do so.

“A few stories say if a shifter stays in his animal form for too long, he’ll be stuck that way forever,” Cai continued in that same annoying, persistent tone. “I expect most shifters would consider that a warning, something to be avoided. For someone who seeks oblivion and to forget the human side of things, I expect it would be really damn appealing. So I was thinking…”

Cai rose and sauntered over to a nearby tree, taking a seat beneath it. “The best way to combat that kind of urge is to remind the shifter what’s appealing about the human form. And I don’t know a male in the world who won’t act in the best interest of his dick.”

With deceptive casualness, he unbuckled his belt, left it dangling as he pulled open the top button of his jeans. Working the zipper down with the pressure of his fist, he curled it around the cock he revealed, since he wore no underwear. “I think you’re up to the reminder, and I’m done waiting. I’ll be gentle, but I want that ass.”

Rand fought his human side, tried to push it back, but his eyes locked onto the vampire’s movements as he settled in to jack himself off. One knee was bent, the other rocked out wide as he slowly pumped his member and considered Rand. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, and Rand’s attention was all over him, the vampire’s scent filling his nose, fueling his hunger. The vampire was right. His body was healed enough for his cock to be stupid.

Vampire arrogance was even farther off the charts than he’d heard. Rand told himself that, even as his eyes clung to what Cai’s hand was doing, and his body trembled on that precipice, the human male inside the wolf wanting, and wanting badly. It had been so long…

“All you have to do to get it, and to get out of that collar, is come back to human form.” Cai lifted his free hand and waggled the thumb. “Useful for unfastening buckles. Or unhooking chains, if you like the feel of the collar I put on you enough to keep wearing it.”

That outrageous statement came with an infuriating, quick grin. It showed the tip of the vampire’s fangs, both the real and the metal one. Rand had never heard of a vampire missing one fang. He didn’t want to be curious. Didn’t want to care.

Cai’s gaze slid down as he fingered his belt with his free hand. “If you shift to human, I could strip this off and use it on your fine ass, punish you for causing me so much work.”

Rand backed up, moved sideways, fought the chain again. He let the rage have him. The chain creaked enough to have the vampire’s brow rising, which was gratifying, but it still held. The pain in his side built to fire. Rand would embrace it until he passed out, taking him away from a decision he couldn’t afford. He didn’t want to feel. Why wouldn’t the vampire leave it alone?

He snarled as the vampire was suddenly on his feet and behind him, arms banded around his throat and the barrel of Rand’s chest, holding him up on his hind legs.

“You aggravate that wound again, and I will fucking tie all your feet together,” Cai breathed against his ear. The threat sent a shiver of sensation through Rand’s body. “I’m glad I assumed you were at least as strong as I am. I’ve reinforced that chain with something you can’t fight. It’s cheating, yeah, but I want a level playing field. Come fight me, man to man. Shift.”

Rand snapped at him, but the vampire stayed out of reach, his hold tightening. “If you don’t,” the vampire promised, “I’ll prove how little of a moral code I’ve got. I’ll shove my dick up your wolf’s ass.”

The idea was so repellent to Rand, he almost shifted then and there, but he pushed back the reaction for another few minutes to prove the vampire couldn’t order him around or threaten him into doing his will. The problem was his human part wanted what the vampire was offering. The lust, strong and heated, surprised him, but the vampire had kept that need kindled over these past few days, hadn’t he? Rand recalled it in quick flashes; a hand passing over his face, his chest, a wet cloth bathing his genitals…

He shifted, fur becoming flesh. The vampire moved with him, more smoothly than seemed possible with the quick, snapping convulsions that accompanied a swift shift. However, when Rand was done, he was still securely in the vampire’s hold. He fought him to be free and this time he won, twisting out of the vampire’s grip and backpedaling away, catching himself before he tripped. He had a momentary impression of the vampire’s hands slipping away, and realized the male had had one palm molded over the wound in Rand’s side to protect it.

The collar was loose on his neck now, but as Rand reached for it, he hit a field he couldn’t get through. He couldn’t even curl his fingers over the darn thing and try to pull it over his head, which he should have been able to do, since the wolf’s neck and ruff was far thicker than his own.

Magic. He couldn’t read the shape of it, but it was obvious that was what it was. He hadn’t imagined that healing wash of heat after all. The damn male was a magic user and a vampire. Something Rand had never heard of, but his knowledge of vampires was far from complete.

Regardless, it made the vampire double the trouble and annoyance.

Cai’s fangs flashed in a grim smile. But as he moved in on Rand, Rand closed his hand over the chain, and realized he could touch that, even if he couldn’t unhook it from the collar. The flash of *oh shit* in the vampire’s eyes was mildly gratifying as Rand dodged past him and employed the chain as a weapon.

He just about clotheslined him. Cai ducked under the chain. He’d had the presence of mind to refasten his jeans so vulnerable things weren’t hanging in the breeze, but Rand’s body was still torqued by the erotic display of rippling muscle and grace as the vampire entered a warrior’s dance with him, up and forward, around. Near pins, missed punches. Twisting, grappling, the chain clanking and the vampire dodging away and out of range before Rand could get Cai tangled in it. Then he closed back in again.

They were like a mirror, anticipating one another too well. Twisting. It occurred to Rand that, thanks to the second mark, Cai was in his head, and if he could follow Rand’s thoughts that fast, he’d stay ahead of Rand, get the advantage. Except Rand used instinct, not thought, and that leveled the playing field.

Then Cai got him pinned against a tree. Rand plunged a fist into his gut that knocked him back. It made the vampire swear, and emit an odd half chuckle. Then the fight got serious.

Damn it, Rand was tiring out. But he wasn’t going to stop fighting. Maybe the vampire figured that out, because suddenly he was outside the ring of combat, just beyond the chain’s length. He stood there, studying Rand, arms crossed over his bare chest.

“Fucking hell,” he murmured. “That was fun.”

It had been…stimulating. Rand’s hands closed into fists. He didn’t want to feel that way. Didn’t want to think about his cock being hard and stiff against his belly, and the vampire noticing it with avid eyes. Cai was just as worked up under his jeans, ready to go.

“Let me go,” Rand growled.

Cai considered, then dipped his head, a short nod. He walked toward Rand, easy, casual, as if they hadn’t just been grappling like enemy combatants. His clear blue eyes were intent on Rand’s, yet seeming to cover every inch of skin at the same time, lingering on Rand’s mouth as he arrived toe-to-toe with him.

“Promise not to run. Let yourself have this, wolf. You want me, I want you. It can be that simple.”

Rand closed his eyes. He wasn’t promising anything, but he wasn’t moving, either. As he stood there for several dozen heartbeats, everything seemed to move in the forest except the air around them, a silent cocoon.

The vampire’s palm rested on his chest, molded over his pectoral, stroked his biceps, the taut nipple. Rand drew in a breath. It had been so damn long…

Cai lifted his touch to the collar. Rand felt a tingle, a release of energy that he recognized as the light coating of heat he’d felt over his shoulders and upper chest when he roused to eat. He’d thought it was a lingering symptom of his injuries.

As the magic dissipated, Cai’s hands closed over the collar. He unbuckled it, the attached chain clinking, his fingertips whispering over Rand’s throat. The leather smell, the stroke of the strap leaving his flesh and replaced by the vampire’s fingers, made Rand’s body tighten. The collar and chain dropped to the ground with a louder clank. Cai’s palm covered the healing scar on his side, one of the knife wounds.

“If you’d stayed human more than a minute at a time,” the vampire said, “I could have kept a bandage on your wounds with some topical that would have helped them heal faster.”

“Didn’t need a nurse.” Rand opened his eyes and flashed an angry look at him.

The vampire slid a rough palm down the center of his back, slow, exploring. Rand closed his eyes again. Fine. Cai wasn’t Dylef, Rand’s former mate, but Rand wasn’t that maudlin. He wasn’t betraying Dylef. It was sex. Just sex, and he could enjoy it without giving it more significance than that. The vampire sure as hell wouldn’t.

“Sex done right doesn’t need a lot of sentiment attached to it, wolf,” Cai said. “The value of a thing for what it is, not what we think it should be.”

*Or wish it could be.* Rand let out a sigh that was half wolf, half man. He couldn’t do anything about the vampire being in his mind, either. Might as well enjoy pure sensation. The vampire was good at this. Creatures of the night, seductive and mesmerizing. He caressed, stroked, learned the lines of Rand’s body, brought every inch of flesh to life. Doing no more than stroking Rand’s shoulders, back, hips. When he reached Rand’s ass, Cai turned his hand over so his knuckles glided over his buttocks, the seam between them.

“You could bounce rocks off this work of art. All that running, I expect. Do you like to run, Rand? It’s an animal thing, stretching out over the ground, going faster and faster, connecting to the elements as you do it. Feeling the wind, the earth beneath you, the sky above.”

He wanted to do it right now, merely from the images Cai was planting, but Cai’s hand closed over his buttock, a hard grip that snagged Rand’s attention fully again.

“Stay with me. I’ll give you a different way to feel like you’re flying.”

He didn’t say it like a boast. A simple assertion of fact. Cai nudged his knee. “Spread these apart.”

It was a command, which raised Rand’s hackles, but as Cai’s hand slid down between his legs from behind, he complied, and swallowed a growl as the vampire captured his testicles in a strong, kneading grip. His fingertips whispered over the base of Rand’s hardening cock.

“There you are. Fuck, you are a treasure.” Cai clasped Rand’s hip with the other hand. The vampire’s possessive hold on his balls resulted in a surge of further desire.

“Do you like pain and restraint, wolf? Are shifters more conservative and vanilla, or do you like taking that animal dominance and submission into darker waters, same as vampires do?”

Whereas vampires stayed in the shadows, wolf shifters were the shadows. But they kept tabs on their non-human brethren, like vampires. Wolves learned about their competitors in the predator world as much as they could. In addition to the information about their speed and strength had come other rumors. How deep and brutal their sexual tastes ran.

And that they were insatiable.

“No,” Rand said, to cover all angles of the question. But he needn’t have said anything, since he suspected his mind revealed some of it. He hadn’t thought of such things, and it hadn’t been part of his life before. Well, not beyond how they manifested in a wolf’s normal makeup, as Cai had pointed out. But the things that woke to life when the vampire threatened to mark his ass, or drove him to his knees, were confusing but undeniable. Darker, deeper parts of what was already in Rand’s mind. A desire for pain, punishment and pleasure, so strong everything else would be swept away. Every agony of the heart too great too bear.

He pushed that away, too, put it back on a physical footing. It was likely the vampire allure, opening their prey’s minds to possibilities they wouldn’t normally entertain.

“No, you don’t do pain and restraints, and no, wolves aren’t more conservative.” Cai chuckled, a sound that cinched around Rand’s cock like a leash, jerking it to attention. “Or simply no, to tell me we’re not having that conversation.”

“Wolves don’t talk this much during fucking.”

“No, I don’t expect they do.” Cai gripped Rand’s buttocks, spreading them, and rubbed his cock in the channel. Rand’s muscles tightened, a ripple going through his arms and shoulders. He was standing there, rigid, but like a tree, he was starting to sway.

“You’re tiring, and I don’t want to wear you out,” the vampire said mildly. “So how about we make this one straightforward. But I like all the directions your mind goes when I touch you, wolf. We’ll have to explore that.”

“I’m not hanging around long enough for a guided tour.”

Cai made a noncommittal noise, and then his grip tightened, his body pressed flush against Rand’s, shoulders to cock to knees. “Go down for me, wolf. All fours. Your favorite position.”

Rand would have locked his knees, but Cai didn’t force it. He nudged, with one knee and the temptation of his cock teasing against Rand’s ass, and another quiet whisper. The words were almost unintelligible, but the meaning clear enough, especially since he let Rand hear it in his head.

*I’ll make it feel good. Simple and easy.*

Rand let his knees give, and when he was on them, dropping to his palms, the vampire delivered. He used his saliva to lube Rand’s opening and his cock, too, he expected, since he felt the vampire working his shaft in his hand as he rubbed against Rand’s ass.

*I’ll bet you have something else to ease my way, coming out of that hard cock of yours. Let me have it.*

Rand gripped himself, slipping his curled fist over his cockhead and finding the pre-come there that Cai had anticipated. His erection was substantial, so he didn’t know why his own response surprised him. Mixed emotions held him as he reached back, palm open and up, and Cai’s strong grip closed over his wrist.

He held Rand’s palm steady as he rubbed his cock over Rand’s damp palm and fingers. It really didn’t add a lot, but it shoved the arousal factor up another two or three notches. Then Cai released him to guide his cock, slippery enough from the combined lubrication, into Rand’s opening. He nudged, playing, teasing, until Rand was pushing back against Cai, frustrated.

“Be still, wolf,” Cai said mildly. “Or I’ll put you on your elbows and show you who’s boss.”

Rand snorted, and Cai answered with one of those sensual chuckles. But the moment of humor disappeared, swallowed by darker, needier things. *Do it. Just do it.* Cai’s hands were all over him, kneading and squeezing his ass, running along his back, his sides, learning him, appreciating him. Enjoying more than just his cock.

Too close to intimacy. Things were growing too hard to manage inside of Rand, making it hard to breathe. He was about to throw the vampire off, start that battle once again…

Cai thrust through both sets of ass muscles, seating himself with a hum of satisfaction. Rand bit back a groan at his traitorous cock’s leap of satisfaction. Maybe because he wasn’t a hundred percent healed, maybe because the vampire put pressure on him he didn’t recognize until it happened, Rand found himself on his elbows. But as they dug into the ground, the anchor and angle took the other male deeper, filling him up. Cai set both hands to his hips.

“Nice,” he purred. He bent close over Rand’s back, his breath caressing Rand’s spine, and fangs scraped over his flesh. The wound in Rand’s side was starting to burn again, and Cai noticed.

“Does it hurt, wolf? Hurt too much?”

From the rumors Rand had heard, that would only turn the vampire on more. Cai chuckled.

“Sometimes,” the vampire acknowledged. “But that’s not the right kind. That’s the type that causes me more work and makes you a one-time fuck, and I want far more out of this fine ass than that.”

Rand snarled and pushed back against him, a message itself. Cai chuckled. “Long as I don’t take too long about things, you don’t care, right? You won’t get to shorten things between us in the future, wolf. But today, I’ll be merciful.”

Mercy had a different definition to vampires, apparently. Cai started thrusting again, but he paced himself, making Rand ride that edge of pain from his injuries while building him up to a mind-boggling arousal. Cai was taking Rand toward orgasm, but at his own pace, until Rand was held away from it by little more than a breath. If this was shortening things, an actual full health fuck with a vampire might be life-threatening.

Cai teased him, spoke to him in that low, sensual voice, saying things that Rand should have ignored, shouldn’t have affected him at all. But his body responded to the words as much as he did to the fucking. The male had a way with words, and a substantial cock, and he knew what to do with both. He could wield the latter like a damn blunt instrument or a precision tool. A power tool, for damn sure.

Cai’s additional chuckle made Rand’s ears burn. Fuck, he needed to remember the vampire was in his head.

THE RED is a stand alone Erotic Fantasy Novel by Tiffany Reisz coming out on July 11th. If you like this excerpt you may want to check out RADISH where the story is being serialized right now.

You want to know more, don’t you? Read the excerpt below…

WARNING: This excerpt is *very* naughty. Contains consent play & BDSM

It was near midnight when Mona returned to the gallery. She was eager to see Malcolm again, and even more eager to see what artwork she’d earn from his collection. At least she told herself all she cared about was earning the art, earning money to save The Red Gallery from foreclosure. That she enjoyed earning the money was beside the point. And yet, her step was quick and she’d spent half the day checking the clock.

It was time.

She went to the red door that led to the back room, took a steadying breath, and pushed it open. At once she was seized by rough male hands and dragged into the room. The door slammed behind her and she was pushed against it, her back to it. She tried to scream but a hand covered her mouth.

“Quiet, girl.”

The words came from Malcolm, though he did not look as he did when she’d last seen him. He’d grown a short beard and mustache, which made him look older, even slightly sinister. He held a rope in one hand. So it was to be role play? Very well. She’d given him carte blanche. Anything meant anything. She shouldn’t be shocked or afraid. But she was afraid. She was.

Because they weren’t alone.

With Malcolm’s hand over her mouth she glanced around the room wildly in her panic. Four men in suits stood waiting by a wooden box in the center of the room. All four men wore masquerade masks—one black, one gray, one red, one gold. They were cyphers in their masks, anonymous. Only Malcolm was unmasked.

“Is there a problem with the girl?” one of the men called out, the one in the red mask. His tone was imperious.

“Not at all,” Malcolm said. “I’ve got her.”

“Let’s see her then,” the man in the black mask said. He sounded bored, impatient. “We haven’t got all night.”

Who were these men? She couldn’t ask because Malcolm had ordered her into silence and his hand still covered her mouth.

“Coming,” Malcolm said. “You won’t be disappointed.”

He spun her without warning, turning her back to him. He put his mouth at her ear and whispered, “Do not fight me, girl. Put on a good show. I want a high price for you.”

A good show… He’d told her last time she existed to entertain him. So be it. She nodded and said nothing, though her heart still raced with terror. Would he let all these men fuck her? No. She knew he wouldn’t.

Or did she?

He took her by the arms and pulled her away from the door. He walked behind her, steering her to the center of the room where the four masked men waited. She tried to study their faces but only one lamp was lit, and they were all in shadows. Only the colors of their masks could be clearly seen. She looked at the floor instead.

“On the box,” Malcolm ordered and she stepped up onto the low wooden platform. Malcolm bent and pulled her shoes from her feet, tossing them into the shadows. He stood and mounted the platform behind her.

“Let’s have a look,” the man in the gold mask said and the other masked men nodded their heads in agreement.

Behind her, Malcolm dragged the straps of her purple summer dress down her arms. She wore no bra and she had to force herself not to fight him as he pushed her dress down and let it pool at her feet. In an instant he had a small sharp knife out and he used the blade to cut her panties off her hips and those he tossed into the shadows with her shoes.

She was naked, completely naked, and standing in front of four strange men. Malcolm produced a rope from his jacket pocket and used it to tie her hands in front of her. Then he reached high and she looked up. He’d hung a metal hook from a ceiling beam. With a swift and easy motion that showed he’d done this sort of thing a thousand times before, Malcolm hoisted her hands over her head and secured the ropes on her wrists to the hook.

There was no escape.

Mona wiggled her hands and the men chuckled at the sight of her struggles.

“I’ll be the judge of that,” the man in the red mask said as he stepped up onto the wooden platform. Malcolm stood behind her, holding her hair in his hand. Mona panted in fear and anticipation. The red-masked man placed his hand on her quivering stomach and stroked her side and hips.

“Very smooth skin,” he said.

“The smoothest you’ll find on the market,” Malcolm said.

The red-masked man took a hard handful of her thigh and gripped it, slapped it. The men watching laughed again.

“The breasts are particularly fine,” Malcolm said. “As you see.”

“I see,” the red-masked man said.

“I don’t,” said another man.

“Then come see for yourself,” Malcolm ordered.

The man in the red mask stepped off the platform and the man in the gold mask stepped on. Without hesitation he groped her right breast with a large strong hand. Mona cried out more in shock than pain. With her hands tied so high, her breasts were exposed and she couldn’t cover them in any way. It was stunning to be touched so intimately by a stranger. He lifted the breast as if to weigh it in his palm, then he pulled the nipple, twisting it a little, teasing and testing it.

“Very nice,” the gold-masked man said, nodding. He shifted to the side and did the same to her left breast. He groped it firmly, squeezed it, lifted and weighed it, before pinching the nipple again, tugging it, and letting it go. “How’s the ass?”

“See for yourself.” Malcolm turned her so that her back was to the gold-masked man. She felt a hand on her backside, rubbing her from her hip to her upper thigh.

“A full ass,” the man said, pleased, as he rubbed. “Soft but not too soft.” He slapped it once and Mona gasped, gasped again when he gripped it in both hands and squeezed it, then pinched it. “Young firm flesh. My favorite.”

“I told you she was worth the money,” Malcolm said.

It was unbearable, being treated like this, treated like chattel. She burned hot with shame and humiliation. Tears stung her eyes. Her breathing was labored and her arms ached. She wanted to cover herself so badly.

“We have to see the cunt first,” another man said. “You know that.”

“Of course,” Malcolm said, laughing. “Of course you have to see the cunt.”

“Let’s see it then.”

Mona groaned as Malcolm turned her to face the four men again. Two of them stepped onto the platform, the man in the black mask and the man in the red mask. Each of them took one of her legs in his hands and hoisted her off her feet. They held her thighs open, her feet dangling helplessly in mid-air, her sex open and exposed. The man in the gray mask stepped forward. He didn’t stand on the platform. He was at eye level with her vulva.

She shivered and moaned as the man in the gray mask extended his hand and lightly touched her pubic lips.

“Exquisite,” he said. “Well-formed.”

“Tight too,” Malcolm said. “But she can take anything you want to give her.”

She saw the hint of a smile on the gray mask’s lips. With his thumb and forefinger, he opened the inner folds of her vulva, revealing the hole, the entrance to her body. He slipped one finger into it.

“And wet. Very wet,” the man in the gray mask said. It was true. Humiliating but true. For all her shame and fear, she was undeniably aroused as well. The man inserted a second finger into her and spread the two fingers wide in a V. She felt herself opening. It was a violation of the sanctity of her body. Why did she relish it?

“What have we here…” the man said as he pushed his fingertip into a deep hollow inside her, near the pubic bone. He pushed hard into the hollow, poked the hollow, prodded at it, teased the delicate dancing nerves. “I can feel her pulse right here. Very rapid.”

“Let me feel it,” the man in the gold mask said. She was empty again but only for a moment, as the gold-masked man put his finger into her and found that same little hollow along the back wall. Her head fell back onto Malcolm’s shoulder as the man in the gold man fingered and fondled her while she hung in the air, spread out and on display. The man in the gold mask examined her clitoris as well, kneeling in front of her and pulling up the tiny hood of flesh to see the organ. It was swollen and she hated herself for that. She hated it all, hated being held, being opened, being examined and displayed…

Oh, but she loved it too.

As the man in the gold mask continued to spread out and probe her sex, the man in the black mask turned his attention to her mouth. She struggled against Malcolm’s shoulder as the man pried her lips apart.

“Don’t bite,” he chided as he stuck a finger into her mouth. She felt it against her teeth. He was counting them, she could tell. But when he was done, he left his finger pressed lightly against her tongue. Now they’d made her mute. A hand that belonged to someone, she didn’t know which man, grasped her breast again and cupped it roughly. A hot mouth latched onto her other nipple and sucked it hard. The fingers worked inside her sex, stroking and rubbing and opening her up wider and wider. She heard the sounds of her own intense wetness. Her labia were pulled and tugged like her nipples, lightly slapped before he, whoever it was this time, pushed his fingers into her again. Three fingers this time, or was it four? She couldn’t tell anymore. She was dripping with need. Five men and their mouths and their hands were all together touching her, fondling her, sucking her and penetrating her mouth and her sex as she writhed and moaned softly, unable to protest or cry out or beg for mercy or—even worse and far more likely—begged them to fuck her. She craved their cocks, all five of them. Before, she’d feared Malcolm would let them fuck her. Now she feared he wouldn’t. But these were mad thoughts. She couldn’t let that happen. She struggled in the iron grasp of the five men, but it did no good, only harm, as the writhing brought her even closer to climax.

Then they all let her go.

It happened so fast, she would have fallen to the floor if the rope hadn’t held her wrists. They released her and stepped off the platform as if someone had given a command she hadn’t heard. She shivered, suddenly cold. Only Malcolm still stood close. She wanted to press her body into his, but he had her by the waist, holding her in place.

“Well, gentlemen, any other requests?” Malcolm asked. “Are we ready to start the bidding yet?”

She braced herself for the haggling. What were they buying? The right to fuck her? Or was it still part of the game?

“Bend her over,” one of the men said. “Let’s see all her holes.”

“If you insist,” Malcolm said.

“I want to know exactly what I’m getting,” the man in the red mask said. “If it’s no trouble.”

“I admire a savvy buyer. And no,” Malcolm said. “No trouble at all. I’ll put her on the pedestal.”

“Very good,” the red-masked man said. The other three men murmured their assent.

Pedestal? What sort of pedestal? Malcolm dragged her off the wooden platform and into the shadows. The light followed as one of the men lifted the floor candle and carried it over to the far corner of the room where Malcolm was taking her. She saw something there, something waist high and covered with a large velvet cloth. Malcolm pulled off the cloth and dropped it to the floor. It was a black leather stool of sorts, but wide enough for her to kneel upon easily. Jutting up from the center of the seat was a large thick phallus, smooth black leather and terrifyingly long—a foot long at least. She shrank from the sight of it, but Malcolm didn’t allow her to flee. He lifted her off her feet and placed her on the top of the pedestal. He took her hips and angled them so that the tip of the phallus kissed the entrance of her hole.

“Take it,” he said, an order she couldn’t refuse. Her body wouldn’t let her. She went down onto her hands and knees and sank onto the phallus, sliding her knees apart and taking as much of it into her as she could. As wet as she was, the massive object went into her easily and she rocked on it a little to take even more. She felt the muscles giving way to the phallus, accepting it, engulfing it. Malcolm had her pinned like a moth under glass. Pinned and put on display.

“Gentlemen, have a look,” Malcolm said. “I have oil here if you need it.”

The consummate salesman.

Mona hung her head, hiding her face behind her hair as the first man whose face she couldn’t see in this position came behind her and spread her buttocks apart. He made a pleased sound like he liked what he saw. He touched her with a finger and she gasped and shuddered. The fingertip was wet, covered in some sort of thick oil or lubricant. He slicked it all over the little hole, all around it. She tingled at the unusual sensation. It wasn’t unpleasant being caressed there on that sensitive opening, wasn’t unpleasant when the man slid a single finger into her as far as his finger could go. He held the finger in her, not moving it for a long time. She heard the men talking among themselves, saying things like “Very nice” and “Well done.” Inside her she felt the man moving his finger, not in and out, but around in a circle, opening her ever more and more.

“You have a plug?” the man asked Malcolm.

“Of course,” Malcolm said.

The finger left her but she soon felt something cold against her, cold and smooth like another phallus but far narrower than the one inside her sex. The man wielding it pushed the tip into her, paused, then pushed it in a few inches more as Mona let out a tense hiss between her teeth. Never before had a lover put anything into her ass—not a finger, not a phallus, not a cock. Yet here it was, going in as if it was made for her body. The man slid it in to the hilt and stopped. The base of the plug would let it go no deeper. Soft moans escaped her lips as Mona’s body adjusted itself to being doubly penetrated on the pedestal. She rocked back and forth, fucking herself with the phallus inside her vagina as the four prospective “buyers” walked around her. One stroked her hair, lifted it and sniffed it. Another stood by her face and took her nipples between his fingers and lightly pulled them. His fingers were cold and sent currents of electricity through her breasts and back. Another man played with her clitoris. His fingertip was wet with the oil as he stroked her. The last man rubbed her buttocks, caressing them lightly but over and over again. Sometimes he would pause to touch the plug or the phallus between caresses.

“Now, gentlemen,” Malcolm began, “let’s start the bidding, shall we?”

“I’ll take her for a hundred,” the man in the red mask said. A hundred dollars? A hundred thousand? A hundred days?

“Anyone wish to counter-offer?” Malcolm asked.

“Too rich for my blood,” the man in the gold mask said. He pinched her nipples again and she flinched as her sex contracted around the phallus.

“Mine too, I’m afraid,” said another man. He slapped her thigh lightly as if saying goodbye to prize horseflesh.

“I’d love to take her,” the last man said. “But I promised myself I wouldn’t spend more than eighty.”

“Then I think we have a deal, my good sir,” Malcolm said. The man in the red mask had been the one fondling her clitoris. Through the veil of her hair she saw him and Malcolm shaking hands. They moved out of her eye line, stood behind her. “Shall I take her off the pedestal for you?”

She heard footsteps, the door opening and closing, but she was certain the man in the red mask hadn’t left her because she felt his finger on her clitoris again. And then on her labia split wide by the huge phallus penetrating her.

“Magnificent,” he said. “Worth every penny.”

He took her hips in his hands and pushed her down, forcing her to take more of the phallus. Her head came up and she moaned with need. She could barely see. Everything was red. The blood behind her eyes, the blaze of her desire, the engorged flesh of her sex, all red, red everything everywhere, red as the man’s mask, the man who owned her. He lifted her up and off the pedestal and put her on her feet. He’d opened his black suit pants and his cock was out, erect and glistening with fluid at the engorged red tip. She had to have it inside her. She had to. She reached for it but he caught her hands, pushed her back into the wall and held her wrists over her head. Desperate, she thrust her hips forward to rub against him. Every move she made sent wild tremors through her body. The plug was deep in her ass still and she wanted it there. But she needed his cock inside her too. Needed it more than anything.

He guided the tip to graze her painfully swollen clitoris and she cried out. With one quick pump of his hips, he pushed the tip through the folds of her labia. With one more pump he penetrated her and with a final pump he entered her entirely. She came off her feet as he lifted her with his hips and pinned her again, this time against the wall. Her breasts bounced as his thrusts lifted her and lifted her. She was nearly screaming in her ecstasy, out of her mind with her pleasure. It felt like she had a rod of iron inside her, as thick, as hot, and as hard as anything could be. She didn’t know this man at all but he owned her. He’d bought her body and now he owned her. She was his slave, his possession, chattel, an object, his to do with as he willed. And what he willed was to fuck her against the wall, ram himself deep into her, pound her and pound her until she came with an unholy moan. Her head fell back against the wall and the man in the red mask kissed her neck, sucking the skin there until she felt it break against his teeth. She didn’t care. The pain spiked the pleasure. The plug in her ass and the cock in her pussy magnified the orgasm a hundred times. His thrusts were relentless. The man in the mask rammed her once more, twice more, a third time and then she felt the burning seed explode inside her so deep she could swear she could taste it on her tongue.

Mona went limp, but she was still impaled on the man’s penis, her feet twined around his thighs, her back pressed to the wall. She rested her head on his shoulder and breathed. Who was this man who’d bought her? What would he do with her? What had she given herself over to? It was wrong, all wrong. She shouldn’t be having sex with this stranger, this cypher, this ghost. She put her hands on his chest to push him away.

“Put me down,” she said.

“Not yet.”

“No, now,” she said though he remained inside her, still hard.

“Carte blanche,” the man in the red mask said.

“That’s for Malcolm, not—”

The man took off his mask. It was Malcolm.

“I told you I liked to play games sometimes,” he said with that smile he stole from the devil. “Didn’t I?”

“Malcolm…” She stared at him in shock and in horror, still pinned to the wall. “You had a beard.”

“Did I?” he asked, lifting his eyebrow.

“You did. Was it…It had to be a fake. You fooled me. I was so sure…” The four men were likely friends of his and when they’d haggled behind her back, Malcolm had taken off his false beard and put on the red mask to trick her. And she’d been tricked, thoroughly tricked.

“You saw what I wanted you to see,” he said. “The oldest magician’s trick.”

“Is this a trick too?” She struggled to free herself from the organ that penetrated her and his body that trapped her against the wall.

“Oh no, this is real,” he said. “This is the only thing that’s real to me.”

Hey folks! Here’s a snippet of C.M. Moore’s latest 1:05.A.M. And check out the interview I did with him about his ex-soldier past here.

Blurb:

In a dystopian future, an assassin must choose to fulfill a final contract or keep the love of her life alive.

Yearning for a normal life, assassin Karmen-Marie has had enough of of the post-apocalyptic world. Forced to take one last assassin’s job, Karma sets out across the frozen landscape of Earth.

Rea MacBain’s job is to ensure the safety of Earth’s precious few water purification plants. He believes his abusive past must stay buried under the snow that encases his domain.

Ice cold assassin’s blood drives the woman sent to kill him, yet it ignites the fire which thaws Rea’s heart.

Karma rolled out of bed and landed lightly on her feet. She grabbed one of Rea’s button-up shirts out of the plastic drawers and slipped the garment over her head. Without making a sound, she crept into the bathroom and used the facility before returning to the bedroom again.

She came out to check on Rea, who was snoring. He looked handsome even while he slept. A lock of red hair covered one eye. His face seemed serene, and worry was no longer evident. She resisted the urge to crawl back in bed and wake him in a very naughty way. He looked so calm she didn’t have the heart to wake him, even if it would be fun. It made sense why he was sleeping so hard. They had both been up most of the night. Not that she was complaining.

Last night, she’d been awakened by him twice, and both times were everything she had missed about him.

The first time he woke her, he was sweet and loving. He carefully pulled her to him and touched every inch of her as if trying to memorize her skin. She could tell by his murmurs of approval that he missed her screams of pleasure and her declarations of love.

The second time was when she’d stroked him until out of pure frustration, he flipped her over and took her from behind. She thought she should be more tired after a night like that, but for some reason, she was refreshed.

Instead of getting back into bed she meandered over to the computer and clicked on a few of the buttons that showed different areas of the water bases. Strange, but snooping around the computer seemed natural. Nothing looked familiar on the screen like she’d hoped, so she roamed into the kitchen space. She figured she could make Rea food, and she ambled past the dark wood cabinets and tan counter. She opened some broken drawers and the fridge, but she didn’t know what he would want to eat.

Frustration flooded her that she couldn’t remember even the most basic item of what he ate for breakfast. Giving up on food, she glanced at the clock on the microwave in the kitchen. The time blinked 7:11. Her body had summoned her awake fairly early. She thought about that. She was restless and fidgety. Did she normally get up this early? She used to love to sleep in and snuggle all day in bed with Rea.

As she glanced around the room, a few other thoughts struck her as well. From what she gathered, this was an entirely different water base than the one they grew up on. If that was the case, everything looked exactly like she remembered. The broken plastic drawers that held his clothes were in the corner. The blanket on his bed was the same thin rag with the blue diamond pattern. The few plates and cups in the cabinets were adorned with the same green flowers, and even the bathroom layout was identical to what she remembered. If she and Rea were so much older, why was their home the same? Why had the two of them not cleaned his room and decorated together? Did Rea’s father still hate her? She remembered how bad life got right after Rea’s mom died. Was he still being beaten? Too many unanswered questions nagged at her, and she resolved to get some answers today. When Rea awoke, she’d ask him then.

Karma started to head back to the computer, not bothering to turn on any of the lights since her eyes had adjusted to the dark perfectly. As she moved silently, so as to not wake Rea, she passed by the kitchen table. When she reached one of the pushed-in chairs, her ears picked up the sound of footsteps outside the door. She moved around the table and checked to see if Rea had awoken.

Curious about who’d be here this early, she opened the door. Gears was standing just outside the door with his fist raised in a position ready to knock. A look of surprise was written on his face when she appeared. He cleared his throat uncomfortably.

“Good morning,” she whispered with a slight nod.

She didn’t know why, but around the doctor she was edgy, like there was a secret he wasn’t telling her. Gears looked at her with apparent distrust, and she considered all the actions she could’ve done to warrant that look.

“Good morning, Karma.” Gears gave a solemn smile. He looked around the hall nervously. He then tried to lean past the doorframe. “Is Rea here?”

“He’s sleeping,” Karma answered. She kept her voice low so as to not wake Rea. Why did everyone keep asking stupid questions? Of course, Rea was here, where else would he be? She waited for Gears to say more. Did he regularly show up this early? That seemed odd to her also.

“He’s sleeping, really?” Gears’ eyes went wide with astonishment, but Karma couldn’t think of what could possibly be so shocking about that. People had to sleep, didn’t they?

As a snore cut into the brief pause in the conversation, Gears began looking her up and down. She could tell he was assessing her and drawing conclusions as to what they’d been doing during the night. She tugged at the bottom of Rea’s shirt and wished the fabric was longer. She also awkwardly brushed some of her wild hair so the tendrils didn’t look like she had just been rolling around in bed.

“He had intercourse with you?” Gears voice went high on the last word. He cleared his throat and pushed his glasses up his nose in an almost nervous gesture. Karma thought she was either getting used to that particular move, or his action was familiar.

“We’re grown adults. I don’t think you should be concerned. People do sleep, and they have sex, and they eat too. It’s all really boring, actually. I thought you were a doctor.”

There was something about how Gears reacted to her that bothered her. She had the impression that when she was talking to him, he was silently interrogating her. Maybe she had caused some type of rift between Rea and Gears. It was also possible Rea’s father could favor the doctor over Rea. There was a chance Gears worked for Rea’s dad and was reporting back. If they’d just tell her what was wrong, she was sure she could make amends.

Gears seemed to recover and collect his reaction. She noticed a tiny smile play on his lips.

“That came out all wrong. You’re right. I’m a doctor. I was making sure you were healing. I didn’t want you to engage in any activity that might not be good for your health. I know you’re an adult. I was concerned as your doctor only. Just keep your wounds clean. That’s important. I always say cleanliness is next to godliness.” Gears paused awkwardly, like he wasn’t sure what he should say next. “I brought you some clothes my girlfriend left at my place. I thought you might need them.”

Karma looked down at the pile of fabric in his arms and relaxed. Maybe she’d gotten Gears all wrong. She offered him a small smile. She shouldn’t be so quick to judge him. He was the doctor here, and she should give him the benefit of the doubt.

“Thanks for the clothes. I didn’t know I didn’t have any here. Where are my clothes normally?”

Gears looked uneasy and glanced past her again. Was he hoping Rea would answer her question? Another awkward silence filled the air between them.

“Maybe you should wake Rea and tell him what time it is. You can ask him your questions. This is a friendly doctor’s suggestion.” With that curious sentence, the doctor quickly departed.

Karma was left standing in the doorway, and as Gears left she mulled over what to do next.

She supposed the first thing she should do is get dressed. She closed the door and went into the bathroom to try on the clothes he’d brought.

One by one, she tried them on, only to find nothing fitted properly. If this clothing was Gears’ girlfriend’s, then the other girl was a lot shorter than she was, Karma concluded.

Finally, she discovered a pair of black stretchy pants that had enough fabric to cover her legs down to her knees. She then chose the largest shirt she could find. The shirt was royal blue, and the garment covered her breasts but clung to her like a second skin. Since she couldn’t find anything else that looked like it might fit, she dressed. She then brushed out her hair with a hairbrush she found on a shelf.

As soon as she got back into the bedroom, she decided it was probably a good idea to take Gears’ advice and wake Rea. A part of her didn’t want to wake him, but if he had somewhere to be, she’d hate if he slept all day and missed his appointments.

From what she gathered, Rea was somewhat of a busy man. If his father were still around, he wouldn’t be happy if Rea wasn’t doing whatever he was supposed to be doing. The idea of meeting an irate Rea’s father was a frightening thought. She remembered how he used to bust into Rea’s room. She hoped he didn’t still do that.

Karma lay down on her side and cushioned her head next to Rea’s face. She softly kissed him and waited to see if he’d wake up. He mumbled incoherent words in his sleep and moved closer to her, as if seeking her out. When his hand found her breast, he brushed his fingers over her shirt and then gave a lazy smile. She loved when he did that, and she scooted closer so he could wrap his arm all the way around her.

“Hey, handsome,” Karma purred as his eyes leisurely lifted open.

“What’s going on, Kitten?” he mumbled sleepily, still caressing her.

“It’s past seven, so I thought maybe I should wake you. We could have breakfast or…”

The word “seven” brought out the strangest reaction in Rea. One moment he was snuggled next to her making lazy circles on her back, and the next second he’d thrown himself out of bed like he’d been laying on razor blades.

“After seven? Shit!”

Karma scooted to the edge of the bed as Rea started to wildly throw on clothes. She was amazed at the speed with which he could get fully clothed. When he was dressed, he shoved his feet into boots that lay next to the bed.

“What’s wrong with seven?”

“I’m late for training. I haven’t been late since—” Rea looked like he was going to say more, but he stopped himself and ran his hand through his rumpled hair.

Frowning, he crossed to the door of the bathroom and disappeared. Karma sat on the side of the bed and waited for him to come back. How was she supposed to know what time he had training? She didn’t even know where her clothes were.

Rea rushed out of the bathroom and headed straight for the exit. He paused at the door with his hand on the knob. For a moment, she thought he was going to exit without saying anything more to her. He spun around and looked at her like he’d completely forgotten she was there. Karma was mildly annoyed.

“Damn it. What am I supposed to do with you?” He swore two more times and then swiveled his head back to the door.

Karma stood up and went to stand next to him. She could tell he was worried, and she could see the war within him starting.

Ignoring his frantic state, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and brought his mouth down to hers. She kissed him with barely leashed passion, not letting him go for a second. She swept her tongue inside his mouth to taste the toothpaste he used. She clutched at his muscled upper arms. She didn’t let go until he wrapped his arms around her body and crushed her to him. When he finally surfaced from the kiss, he looked at her with a bemused expression on his face.

“What was that for?”

“I wanted to say good morning before you left, and tell you I had a great time last night. I can wait here for you. I can sit around and try to get my memory back while you’re out. You don’t need to worry about me.”

Rea’s expression turned grim. He ran his hands through his hair again. Her words had the opposite effect on him than what she’d intended. He looked more worried now than before.

“No, you can’t stay here alone. Your boots are over by the chair. Put them on and come with me.”

“You want me to go with you… to training?” Karma was truly astounded.

Once she’d snuck in to watch his training with his dad. After his father had humiliated him in front of everyone, he then pitted Rea against two men who were better trained.

Karma remembered keenly watching Rea get slammed into the mud repetitively. When Rea found out she’d seen it, he had made her promise to never come to training again. She’d honored his request because she couldn’t watch his sadistic father in action ever again. Watching the love of her life get crushed had been a hell like none other.

“Hurry up.” He pulled a pair of socks from a drawer and tossed them at her.

Karma was still stunned he invited her. She fumbled with the socks as she put them on. She grabbed the soft black leather boots he pointed to and sat in a chair by the table. They felt like they were made for her, and she zipped them up over her calf. These boots gave her a measure of comfort because out of everything, these were familiar. A memory of her zipping up these boots popped into her head, and the thought was comforting.

Rea didn’t spare her another glance as they hurried out into the hallway. As Karma trotted along after Rea, she glanced at the empty rooms to the right and left. The plain cement walls were smooth on either side of the large walkway. Bright round lights hung every few feet above them. Each room they passed had the door open, and empty beds and sparse furniture came into view.

“Why are all the rooms around here empty? Are we antisocial?”

“It’s ‘coz once I leave to build a new base my room and all the rooms in this area go to the scientists and their families. Once the men are trained, they’ll be the police and the safety of this water base. Scientists, women, and children can’t move onto the base until it is safe. It’s my father’s rule.”

“I didn’t know this was a new base. Thank you for bringing me along while you build it. I heard you’re not supposed to do that.” Karma mulled what they’d been discussing. Was having no one around him hard, or did he want it that way? Maybe he liked that his life was just her, him, and his dad. Karma shuddered at the thought of Rea’s father. She was glad she hadn’t run into him so far.

After a few seconds of silence while they walked, she started to wonder if they were going to stay on this base or if they were going to move on to build another one.

“After this base is fully operational and people move in, will a family or a couple live in your room? After the scientists and workers move here and this base is safe, where do we go?”

They turned a sharp corner and headed down similar hallways of cold cement with large fat columns. The walls were sterile, like they were waiting for someone to decorate them. She thought that adding finishing touches to a base might be fun.

“My room and the others around me are for single people and sometimes for couples. Down further, there are rooms for larger families. This way is past the greenhouses that grow some of the food. Spouses and children are responsible for the underground farms that get added after I leave.” Rea sounded resigned to this, like he was a tour guide educating her. “All the best shit gets added after I leave.”

Rea hurried Karma along over the rock flooring, past the different areas of the water base. They rushed past large equipment rooms where the scientists would clean water from the surface and put it into huge tanks. They passed barracks for the single men and an enormous empty cafeteria.

Something about the greenhouses was familiar to her. The time 1:05 a.m. leaped into her mind. As soon as she tried to catch the memory, it was gone again.

“Until the families get here, who takes care of the greenhouses?” she asked to chase away the perturbed feeling seeping into her. She was practically running to keep up, and she was irked she had no memories.

“All the men have to spend time in the greenhouses. It’s partly ‘coz we have to grow our food, but mostly it’s mandatory that we all have to be under the sun lamps. Gears gets after us if our vitamin D drops too low. He checks our health once a month.”

“That makes sense, but you didn’t really answer my other question. Where do we go after this water base is built? What do we do when we don’t have Gears with us? Does he come with us, or is there another doctor?”

“We?” Rea gave her a quick side glance and kept up his jog.

“Yes, we. Are we going to a new base to train others, or are we going back to an already established base? Do we stay here? Where does your father go? Does he come with us? Does Gears move with us? I thought he was a close friend of yours.”

Rea abruptly stopped. They came to a large metal door and paused. His hand reached out and grasped a long metal handle.

“That’s a lot of questions, Kitten. We’re going to work it out.” He spoke meticulously. He stopped and turned around to look at her. A fierce frown wrinkled his brow as his eyes slashed over her. “What are you wearing?” he added after studying her.

“Clothes.”

“That’s not clothes. That’s a second skin, only in color.”

Karma looked down at herself and shrugged. The boots came up to where the black stretch pants left off, and the blue shirt covered her torso even though the top was snug. The clothes did fit, but he was right about the fabric not hiding much. It seemed tight, but she could move easily.

“Gears gave the clothes to me this morning.” She smoothed her hand over the bottom of her shirt. “He also told me to wake you. I think he was surprised you slept in.”

“I bet he was,” Rea grumbled. He then mumbled under his breath a few more words about how Gears was trying to make his life miserable. With a frown now permanently plastered on his face, he put his hand on the doorknob and swung the door wide. The entrance was a large double door, but the opposite one stayed firmly shut.

“I would’ve worn my clothes if you’d told me where they are,” Karma commented to his back. What did he expect her to do, run around the base naked? This was better than nothing.

“We can work that out too,” he grumbled, preoccupied.

It was apparent he was now dismissing her from his thoughts.

Rea’s stride was swift. He entered the room with head held high and back straight. Karma followed him, and she recognized the huge training room. The massive room had only a mud floor, but the ceiling was cement and at least twelve feet high.

She looked up at the columns, which held up the giant chamber, and she let her eyes pass over the different things going on around her. On her left side, near where they entered, two shirtless men were fighting with jagged looking knives. On the opposite side, a large group of men was practicing with some type of club and shield. The center of the room was only a big ring, which wasn’t occupied, but all the way around the circle, men were standing as if waiting for someone to enter it. The ring in the center was familiar. She remembered Rea in the center, being beaten to the floor while everyone stood by watching. A part of her knew this wasn’t the exact same ring, but the area was so recognizable a feeling of helplessness swamped her.

To banish the raw memory, she looked at all the different sizes and shapes of the men around her. Every male was fit, but they were as different as light and dark. Some were black, some Hispanic, and some maybe Asian or Indian. Tall, short, and medium, the room was a collage of sturdy warriors, and all of them were intimidating and well built.

“I want you to stay close to me. Don’t talk or draw attention to yourself. You already look too damn sexy. These men haven’t been around a woman for a few months. Dad says women are a distraction and shouldn’t be around during training. Especially, not a hot woman like you.”

“You think I’m sexy?” she purred.

“I said don’t talk,” Rea groused, but Karma couldn’t help but smile anyway.

“If women aren’t allowed on the base because they’re not safe, then why did you let me come?”

Karma knew she shouldn’t ask, but she couldn’t help herself. She hated that she still didn’t have the ability to recall even the simplest information.

“We’ll talk about it later.”

He was brushing her off again. Karma wanted to be offended, but she wasn’t. She could tell Rea wasn’t happy about bringing her near a bunch of men while they were in training mode. If Rea hated doing this so much, he must have an excellent reason to have asked her along. He wasn’t the kind of man to jeopardize her safety or cause problems for his men.

Even though he told her not to say a word, it didn’t matter. Her presence caused enough of a stir that she might’ve shouted at all of them instead of meekly walking behind Rea.

“Now we know why he slept in.” A man to her left gave out a sharp bark of laughter at his own comment.

“Did you bring us a prize to fight for? I heard your dad used to do that. If we get to do her when we win, then I’m first up to fight.” A large Asian man to her right spoke, as his eyes raked her body like she wasn’t wearing a stitch of clothing.

He adjusted the small pistol on his belt so he could grab his balls and wink at her.

The vulgar way he looked at her made Karma’s blood run cold with rage she didn’t even know she had inside of her. She thought she wasn’t a violent person, but the idea of grabbing his gun off of his belt and beating him over the head with it filled her head.

“I’m up for fighting this morning if she’s the prize,” a shorter blond with a big nose called out from the back of the crowd. “Hell, I’d even marry her.”

Karma felt like a piece of meat thrown to dogs. She quickly assessed what other weapons were around the room and which ones would be easiest to steal.

“Hey, Boss-Mac,” a brawny brunet man standing next to her side spoke up. “You said if we’re late for training then we have to be in the ring first thing to fight you, so who do you fight if you’re late?”

Karma studied Rea. His face looked like it could’ve been carved in granite. He seemed like he didn’t care if anyone had sex with her or if he had to fight in the ring with all of them. He took bored to a whole new level. Karma couldn’t believe this was the man she’d had sex with last night. When he was with her, he was so expressive and caring. Now he looked like an icy stranger.

“First off, I’m the Water Base Boss. I get the women around here. If you guys want to get laid, then become better fighters. Learn the rules to make this base secure. After it’s safe, you can chase as much trim as you want. You can also bring your girlfriends and wives here once this is fully operational.

“Second, as boss, I can be late. However, to honor the rule, I’ll step into the pit. Who is first up for me to beat?”

Rea strolled into the center of the ring without even looking back at her. Karma found her hands going up to her hair. She began swiftly pulling the strands into a tight ponytail. She didn’t know why she was doing it, but the action was as if it was ingrained in her to have her hair out of the way right at this time.

From behind her, she heard some of the men grumbling about fighting Rea. She could tell from his overpowering confidence he wasn’t worried about sparring with any of them. She recalled a bandage near his rib cage that she’d seen last night. She couldn’t believe he’d fight with an injury. He didn’t appear concerned about any of it, injury or men.

As he stood casually in the center of the mud, he waited like he had all the time in the world. His body was hard and muscular, with strength radiating off of him. Karma’s body felt like her insides were winding up. As if someone was twisting her internal organs. She could feel the heat of the men around her pressing in, and a deeply rooted battle cry was trapped in her throat. She wanted to fight all these men. She wanted to defend Rea even though he was standing so mighty before her. She didn’t want him to stand alone.

“I’ll take you on, Boss-Mac,” a Hispanic-looking man, with a thick accent, called from behind her.

Karma turned slightly to look at the tall, husky, curly-haired man casually striding toward the ring. He stopped when he came to her, and something about him seemed recognizable. He smiled at her, but the flash of teeth wasn’t friendly.

“How about you watch a real fighter?” Curly spoke as he walked up to her. He was talking loudly enough for Rea to hear from where he was standing.

She glanced to Rea to gauge what he wanted her to do. Once Curly had Rea’s attention, he wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her to him.

“Playing a damsel in distress, Karma?” he whispered to her before he nuzzled her neck. No one seemed to hear what he said, and she had no idea what that meant.

Disgust filled her at his smell and touch. She tugged away from him. He only laughed at her squirming, but he let her go and slapped her ass. She restrained herself from striking him, but her muscles tensed to do so.

The slap seemed loud in the space. Although it only took seconds for him to touch her, it was as if time had slowed down. She saw Rea’s eyes darken only slightly, but he kept his face as an unreadable mask.

“Quit fucking around,” Rea barked out.

When Curly entered the ring, Karma could tell he was slightly shorter than Rea but just as fit. The two of them looked evenly matched. Karma’s heart dropped to her stomach. Curly was a good fighter. He was dangerous. She didn’t know how she knew that, but she did, and she trusted her knowledge.

As soon as the two men faced each other, Rea’s eyes narrowed. Karma started to study Curly as if she was going to enter the bout with him herself.

“Who are you?” Rea asked as they eyed each other.

“My name’s Nash,” Nash spoke with a slow drawl. “I’m new.”

“I don’t remember seeing your name on the roster.” Rea’s voice was flat.

“I transferred here from another base. I showed up yesterday, around the time you kicked out Charlie and Josh. I heard about what went down. Guess I can’t blame you. If I were fucking an ass as fine as that bitch, I wouldn’t be sharing either.”

Rea’s anger swelled noticeably. He threw the first punch.

Nash blocked Rea’s fist. He landed his elbow straight into Rea’s gut. Rea bent over with the hit. The crowd of men cheered. The room filled with noise all the way up to the ceiling. Rea got back up quickly, and his eyes flashed with rage. He threw his entire body at Nash, wrapping his arms around the other man’s waist. They wrestled to the floor. More cheering followed.

Karma moved closer to the ring. Rea’s eyes caught hers for a moment. She shifted slightly through the men, who were now captivated by the spectacle before them. They cheered and shouted. None of them even noticed her any longer.

As Karma moved through the crowd, she had the urge to call out the command for Rea to focus on what he was doing. He needed to stop looking for her.

Biting her tongue, she moved until she was standing on the opposite side of the ring. She was following Nash’s movements. She didn’t know why. As she moved, the two men exchanged hit after hit. Nash was pounding at Rea’s injured side. Blood could be seen smearing across his shirt.

She thought she should be appalled at the blood, which splattered on the dirt, or at the crack of bone hitting bone, but she found the fighting dull. She was resigned, bored even. An odd jaded feeling was filling her. She shifted her weight to the balls of her feet. She was waiting for something. Even though she was waiting, she didn’t know what she was looking for.

The air crackled with unexplained discord. What was she expecting to happen? It was the way Nash moved, the way he glanced at her. His actions were speaking silently to her. She trusted her instincts.

Everything happened so fast Karma wasn’t sure why she did what she did.

As she saw Nash pull a sleek steel dagger from the side of his boot, she turned and grabbed a handle-heavy throwing knife off the belt of the man shoved next to her. For some reason, she wasn’t happy with his knife selection, but that idea came like a quick bolt of lightning. She balanced the rusted blade on her palm. The action was as if she’d done this a thousand times.

With ease, she threw the cumbersome knife with practiced grace. The throwing knife lodged in Nash’s hand. Swiftly, she moved again between two more men. Nash hollered with pain and surprise. His eyes shot to her for a second. Her actions startled the man next to her, but she slinked away from him around the circle. None of the men moved quickly enough to stop her.

Stepping to the edge of the circle, Karma assessed what other weapons were within arm’s reach. The dagger Nash had held now lay on the ground, forgotten. The knife was stained with mud and splattered blood. The blade had never reached its intended destination.

Nash swore at her in fury.

Rea stumbled backward. Shock etched into his features as he rotated his head toward her.

Nash brought his hand, with her knife stuck between the bones, down to his middle. With a concentrated effort, he pulled the oxidized blade from his skin. Dark, rich blood spurted in all directions.

Now that he had the old throwing knife clutched in his good hand, Nash turned to her. His eyes were ablaze in outrage.

“Fuck you, Karma. I knew you switched sides, you sneaky bitch.”

The entire room stilled collectively as if they were holding their breath.

Nash charged her. In a flash, she felt the swipe of the knife at her belly. Karma jumped back before the next swing of Nash’s weapon. Warm blood and ripped cloth fell to the ground. Her body reacted even as her mind went blank.

Karma crouched low, sweeping her leg under Nash. She knocked him backward to the dirt. As her hand reached for the gun hung on the belt of the man behind her, her mind rejected her actions. She fought to focus on what was happening. This was starting to feel like a dream… or a nightmare.

Rea threw his body over Nash. He kept him pinned to the ground. They grappled for the knife Nash still held. Rea’s hands forced Nash to stab himself in the neck.

The sound of a single shot being fired reverberated around the room. Scared, she glanced around to see who’d fired a gun.

Finally, there was only an eerie silence in the training room.

Blood flowed freely from the huge gash that had been cut into Nash’s throat. As the dirt around him turned red, she spun away. She was lightheaded and trying valiantly to not vomit. What had she done? She looked around the room. The weight of every man’s eyes was on her. This time, they weren’t assessing her figure; they were afraid of her. Every man, including Rea, looked tense and alert.

Rea stood unsteadily. He stepped between her and the lifeless body. He didn’t speak but merely stared at her like all the other men. Her eyes jumped to him. She wanted to beg him to hold her, to chase away what had happened. She wanted Rea to comfort her, to tell her he was there for her.

“Karma?” Rea said her name slowly.

His voice wasn’t more than a whisper of sound, but she felt it in her heart. She could feel the persistent connection that said he’d be there, no matter what. Rea would be there for her. He loved her.

“Kitten?” Again he spoke slowly, like he was trying to soothe a wild animal.

He took one tiny step forward, then another, until he was only a few inches from her. Carefully, with his hands steady, he reached out to her.

Karma looked down at her hands when he reached for them. She realized she was tightly gripping a gun. Where had she gotten it? When?

Wildly, she spun around. She let her eyes return to the dead man on the floor. A perfect bullet hole was in the center of his forehead. What had she done? Tears welled up at the corners of her eyes, but she couldn’t seem to let them fall. Everyone was waiting for her to give up the weapon she still clutched. This was evident without the words being spoken. She didn’t want to let the gun go. That idea frightened her more than anything that had happened so far.

She released the small pistol into Rea’s hand and waited to see what would happen. She had killed a man who worked for Rea. What would Rea’s father say when he found out? What would Rea do?

“Gears,” Rea called to the doctor, who appeared at his side. Karma was stunned to see him. She didn’t even know he’d shown up in the training room. “Take Karma back to my room and check her injuries. Check her memories.” Rea linked his fingers through hers. They rushed through the men who moved out of their way like they were an avalanche.

They got to the far side of the room with Gears following them. Rea opened the door. The hallway looked like a welcoming sanctuary that would let her escape this madness. She turned to Gears, who was now standing next to her. Gears and Rea exchanged a look. The men were silent, which made the training room seem abnormal.

“Gears, I’ll stay here and handle the body. I have to speak to Ken. Take Karma home. I’ll be there soon.” Rea pressed the gun she’d had moments ago into Gears’ hand. Gears looked at the weapon and wagged his head back and forth.

“Back to your room again? Really? Don’t you think you should reconsider that?” Gears pushed the weapon back at Rea. Rea pushed it back again.

“Take her to my room. Do what you have to do to look after her. I’ll tell Ken what happened and have him handle it. I’ll be there soon.”

“I don’t think so.” Gears shoved the gun back again into Rea’s hand. “What if this triggers all her memories? Does Ken know what’s going on? Maybe I should talk to him instead. You go with Karma. I’ll stay.”

Gears’ hands were shaking. He looked like he was scared of going with her. She hated that. He took a step away from her and moved closer to the training room door.

Rea was not to be swayed. He stepped in front of Gears, handing the gun to him one final time.

“I’ll only be a minute. Ken will help me remove the body and talk to the men. He’s efficient.” Rea started to push him out into the hallway. Karma meekly followed, feeling dejected.

“What if she…” Gears trailed off.

“She’ll be fine,” Rea insisted.

Rea returned to the crowd of men around the body. At this point, she didn’t believe him. She thought she’d never be fine again.

Sure, Valentine’s Day may have given way to March Madness, and April showers aren’t far away. But is there ever a wrong time for holiday shopping? Of course not. Take a peek at “1-800,” in which our hero Jason Lowell starts out looking for one thing and ends up finding something far more exciting.

With Valentine’s Day approaching, Jason has to find the perfect gift for his perfect fiancée, the beautiful, sexy Kate. But where will he find a present worthy of the love of his life? A bit of afternoon channel surfing, meant to stimulate his thoughts, leads to a home shopping network right out of his wildest fantasies. Before long, he’s stimulated in all the right ways! But will he find the gift Kate’s wanted all her life? Or will he be too distracted by the live product demonstrations?

*****

To the untrained eye it would appear that Jason was watching a basketball game in his basement man cave. But he knew he was looking for a Valentine’s Day present.

Sure, most other guys would actually look for a present in a more obvious place. The internet came immediately to mind, jam-packed with so many “Best Presents to Get Your Woman” lists that the websites had to find some way to make them all unique. One list was written by women. Another was written by a call girl. He had a feeling neither of those was entirely accurate, at least not for his purposes.

He could always just ask what she wanted. Kate wasn’t the sort to presume he was reading her mind, primarily because he had failed to do it so many times during the early months of their relationship. What she wanted most, she said, was reliability, even if that meant just asking her for advice. Still, something in him, some ancient provider gene that had survived eons of evolution, wanted to come through for her without any help.

Of course, there were the old standbys: chocolate, flowers, jewelry, what have you. He’d never met the woman who disliked flowers, and he brought them home every so often just to make her smile. He knew she liked chocolates, the darker the better, but if they were in the house his waistline would suffer for it. As for jewelry, well, the only jewel she wore regularly was the diamond he’d put on her finger this past Christmas.

So none of the standbys would prove interesting. He liked being interesting, but it put a lot of pressure on a guy.

In their time together he had usually been successful in getting her just the right thing. His secret was a simple one. He knew immediately that she was not an ordinary woman, so he didn’t bother with ordinary gifts. His friends had all mocked him for the unorthodox ideas. The ornate hardbound edition of Jane Eyre with a hand-painted bookmark at each chapter. The cute little tasseled earplugs for the years with her obnoxious roommate. A heart-shaped infuser for her tea. His friends had gone on and on about his “weird ideas.” But in the end, those guys hadn’t been interesting, and he still was. So there.

He grinned.

So far the commercials had been for beer (not really a present), another kind of beer (see above), a pizza with two kinds of bacon and six kinds of cheese (almost lunch time), diamonds (already got one), and a $45,000 luxury car. He’d watched this ad with her before. She’d taken one look at the car racing down a dark street and scoffed. “Oh, look at us!” she said scornfully. “We have money!” Then she’d flipped off the elegant woman in the passenger seat with one hand, and her smug-looking husband with the other.

No luxury car. Not that he could afford one.

The game started again with a slow-motion replay of North Carolina’s tiny little point guard driving right through Virginia’s entire defense for a layup. He groaned and reached for the remote. If he was going to shop for gift ideas, he could at least find a better game.

His thumb flicked the channel up button with practiced ease, and programs flashed by in a blur. First up was an even worse ball game. Law & Order. Chick flick. Predator movie. Two women in their underwear, giggling into the camera. Hogan’s Heroes.

Whoa whoa whoa.

He flicked back to the ladies in lingerie.

A blonde dressed in a red bra and panties stood next to an olive-skinned beauty wearing a merry widow. He loved the phrase merry widow. Ever since he’d first seen it, in the bathroom with a Victoria’s Secret catalog about a million years ago, he’d committed it and the luscious form it was wrapped around, to his memory.

The girl in red waved at the camera. “Hi!” she said. “I’m Cassidy.”

Merry widow waved. “And I’m Marissa.”

Then, in unison, they announced, “And this is…The Toy Box!”

The two of them put their arms around each other’s shoulders and tittered like this was going to be the most exciting television show in the world. He put the remote on the table.

“We’d like to welcome you to the Valentine’s edition of the most popular show on the Shop From Home Channel,” said Cassidy.

“But these toys are for grown-up boys and girls,” said Marissa. “So if you’re under eighteen, you need to change the channel.”

They stood there and giggled some more.

Come on, kiddies. Change the damn channel.

“All right, then,” said Marissa. “Now we’re ready to show you some awesome gifts that are sure to spice up your special day.”

This was probably going to be something lame, like crotchless panties or a cake pan shaped like a dick. But he kept watching. Just to be sure. Until one of those games turned around.

“Why don’t we get this party started with one of our most popular goodies?” asked Marissa. “Cassidy?”

“This is our Little Giant,” Cassidy said. She held up her hand, one finger extended as if she were pointing at the ceiling. She had a little gizmo on her fingertip that looked for all the world like one of those little vibrators. “It’s a great present for a special someone you might like to know a little better.”

“I’ll take some calls while you give us a demo, Cassidy,” said Marissa.

A demo. Like the people in TV Land needed her to show them where the on switch was. Actually, he and Kate had gotten a toy once where the button was hidden in the—

Cassidy had walked to the back of the set, where she tucked her thumbs into the waistband of those festive red panties and pulled them down, bending at her waist and supplying just the right amount of jiggle. Then she hopped up onto a chaise longue and spread her legs, bending them at the knee. Jason felt his mouth drop open.

Lady Smut is a blog for intelligent women who like to read smut. On this blog we talk about our writing, the erotic romance industry, masculinity, femininity, sexuality, and whatever makes our pulses race.